


Proof

by irisbleufic



Category: Toy Soldiers (1991)
Genre: Anxiety, Boarding School, Canon Character of Color, Homework, Kissing, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The absence of a thing may imply that it's very much present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in January of 2008.

"The worst thing about getting back from Christmas vacation," Joey said, bursting through the dorm-room door suitcase first, "is the fucking malaise that sets in, oh, _now_."

Billy looked up from his Game Boy, which he suspected Parker would take away from him very, very soon, especially if he kept bringing it to the cafeteria. Now that Joey was back to join him in early-return misery, he might have a hope in hell of hanging onto it. He turned it off, tossed it onto Joey's desk, and smiled. Fuck, it was good to see him.

Joey set his suitcase down beside Phil's bed, hesitantly returning the smile.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, and took a seat at his desk. The slant of his posture suggested that he had wanted to lean closer, but that he had consciously chosen caution.

"You bet," Billy said, stretching and yawning to cover his unease. He scooted closer to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over, sitting so that his knees nearly met with Joey's. He couldn't stop thinking about the evening before they'd left for home, how—

 

_Joey glanced up from his trigonometry assignment, sharp-eyed and defensive._

_"I didn't mean it like that, all right? It's not that I don't want to hang out, it's just that I refuse to take this fucking assignment home. Uncle Begni will be all over me if I've got my nose stuck in a book, like every other Christmas. Why don't you do yours?"_

_Billy was sick and tired of playing games, so he said, "I'd rather watch you, if it's all the same."_

_Joey gave him a dubious look, but there was fear under the doubt._

_"Yeah. I've kind of noticed that."_

_"Noticed what?"_

_"You."_

_"What about me?"_

_"You watch me. You've been watching me ever since you crashed this party back in June. Not that I think you're a stalker or anything, because we're friends, but—"_

_"You could've just said something," Billy said. He was starting to shake, which was never a good sign. "I would have stopped. Besides, you watch me, too."_

_Joey scowled and picked his pencil back up._

_"Only when you're not looking."_

_"Yeah, right," Billy said, and reached over to snatch the pencil._

_Somehow, they ended up holding hands for a few seconds, the two of them staring at Joey's halfhearted trig proofs. Billy finally let go of Joey's hand, leaving the pencil where it was. He had Joey's full attention now, and his eyes had gone from sharp to sorry._

_"You could've just said something," he said._

_"I didn't know," Billy admitted, his heart slowing only a little._

_"Now you do," Joey said, and got back to his homework._

 

Phil had already gone, and, after Joey had finished his work, they had spent the rest of the night talking on Billy's bed. Joey hadn't gone to his own: he'd fallen asleep on Billy's pillow, one arm thrown dangerously low across Billy's hip, his breath soft against Billy's chin. Billy hadn't slept a wink. How could he, wondering what had happened?

"Well," Joey said, clapping his hands together. "At least you didn't get froggy boxers."

Billy yawned again, knowing it probably sounded fake as anything. "Nope, but I got Joe Boxer boxers. Wanna see?"

"Very funny," Joey said, although he didn't look amused. He looked _tempted_.

 _Interesting_ , Billy thought, and considered changing the subject. Instead, he ventured, "No, I'm serious. Waitwait _wait_ , not like that, I didn't—"

He'd managed to block Joey's blows by crossing his forearms in front of his face and pushing outward with all his strength, which _still_ wasn't enough to knock Joey back into his chair. Joey gave him a dazed glare over their locked arms, panting.

"Then what _did_ you mean, asshole? Is this what I get for spilling my guts to you before we went home? For falling asleep in your bed? _Huh?_ Is that what you think of me?"

"No," Billy said, giving Joey another light shove with his arms before uncrossing them, bringing them down, and catching Joey's wrists on the way. " _No_ , that isn't what I think of you. Relax, okay? It was a bad joke. I'm not even wearing them. I'd have to get the package out of my drawer in order to show—"

"I suppose you would've made Phil the same offer?" Joey asked, yanking his wrists free of Billy's grasp and sinking back into his chair. "I don't think so."

Billy put up both hands, deciding to call his bluff. "Hey, that can be arranged."

Joey's eyes widened slightly with something that looked like jealousy. It retreated quickly, and soon there was nothing but old, dull fury left in its place.

"That's the trouble with you, Billy," he said, quietly, under his breath.

Billy leaned forward, taking his turn at offense.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You fuck around too much," said Joey, wearily, swiveling around so that he could fish in his pencil holder. "How am I supposed to know if you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

Joey turned with lightning speed, hurling the pencil with deadly accuracy. The eraser-end caught Billy's elbow with a stinging _crack_. They stared at each other for a few minutes, completely stunned. Clearly, this wasn't going very well.

"Billy, I like you," Joey said, and the look on his face, while painfully honest, betrayed that he thought it was the dumbest thing he had ever uttered. "No, wait, take that back. Like isn't just cliché, it's _wrong_. I care about you, and I trust you. Me? Trust? Fuck, I don't trust _anybody_. So, don't you go thinking I'll sit back and let just anybody watch me, got it? I swear, I think I know you, and then…"

"Joey," Billy said, softly, unable to meet his eyes. " _Please_."

"Be clear with me, all right?" Joey asked, his voice imploring. "That's all."

Billy nodded, slowly, and looked up even though his cheeks were burning.

"I care about you, too."

Joey raised an eyebrow.

"And, yes," Billy added, reaching for Joey's hands, gently this time. "I trust you."

"Then that means, exactly…?"

Billy wanted to laugh, but he swallowed it and put on a serious expression, which he didn't have to force. He let his thumbs brush the backs of Joey's hands, light as breath.

"It means, exactly, that I hope Phil doesn't decide to come back early like you did, because I haven't been able to sleep as well without you beside me, and—"

Joey was sprawled out beside him before he could continue, one arm finding the place that it apparently preferred, just _so_ , draped across Billy's hip.

"See? As long as you're honest, I really am easy."

Billy frowned, tracing Joey's jaw line with one unsteady finger.

"I don't think you are, Joey."

Joey shrugged, closing his eyes as he turned his face into Billy's palm.

"I'm glad," he said, and parted his lips over Billy's lifeline, not quite a kiss.

They talked for an hour or so longer, well past the fall of the early dusk. The weight of Joey's head on Billy's shoulder felt like the fall of first snow: light, chilling, and too good to last. As Joey drifted off, Billy tilted his head—just _so_ —to kiss the corner of Joey's mouth, but Joey jerked in his sleep, turning his face into the crook of Billy's neck.

Billy settled for Joey's hair, instead, the softness sticking briefly to his lips.

* * *

The brusque knocking came at 11:15 AM, which, in Billy's book, was too early.

Joey groaned, starting awake. He tensed all over, as if his body had no idea where it was and what it was doing there, but his voice said, with tired calm, "Good morning."

"G'morning," Billy yawned, tugging him in closer. Just like last time, they were still dressed, which wasn't terribly comfortable. At least neither of them had on shoes.

The knocking repeated itself, irritated.

"What the _hell_ , guys? Let me in?"

"Yep!" Joey shouted, disentangling himself from Billy before Billy had the chance to steal what he had so far had extremely bad luck stealing indeed. "Be right there."

Phil blinked at them as Joey opened the door, one small duffel bag in each hand.

He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "Were you guys—" He made a vague gesture using the sweep of his eyes and chin to indicate Joey's clothing.

"Um, yeah," Billy said, stretching as he got up off the bed. "All-nighter. Joey's still freaked about that trig test on Monday."

"It's Tuesday," Phil corrected, pushing past Joey and into the room. He paused beside Joey's suitcase, giving it a light kick. "Did you switch our beds without asking me?"

"Nope," Joey said, and let the door swing shut. He collected his suitcase and carried it to the foot of the bottom bunk. "Just lazy."

"Are you sure it's Tuesday?" Billy said, trying to hide his anxiety.

"Yeah," Joey said, counting off days on one hand. "Tuesday's the seventh, not Monday."

"Oh, yeah," Phil said, ripping into one of his duffels and emptying its contents across his bed. "Happy fucking New Year. I don't suppose 1991 bodes for laundry any less dirty."

"It's a palindrome," Joey pointed out, fishing through his own suitcase. "It can't be all that bad. Does anybody know what sign of the Chinese New Year is coming up next month?"

"Nope," Billy said, taking a seat at Joey's desk, reaching for the Game Boy. "But we can look it up if you want. Anybody have an almanac?"

"Who the fuck keeps an almanac?" Joey asked, tossing a pair of socks at Billy. This time, thankfully, he missed. Billy gave him his best smirk.

"Your mom," Phil said, then screwed his mouth shut. "Sorry. I meant Billy's mom."

Joey shrugged, but he didn't look at Phil again for a minute or so.

"Right, okay," Billy said, switching the Game Boy on, then off again. "It's Saturday, and they serve late breakfast. Who's hungry?"

"I had McDonald's in the car," Phil said, fishing through his laundry with disgust.

"O _kay_ ," Billy repeated, tossing the Game Boy back on Joey's desk. "Next question: Joey, are you hungry?"

"Kind of," he replied, but it was fairly noncommittal.

"Fine," Billy conceded, dropping to the floor in order to locate his sneakers under the bunk. "You guys sort laundry, I'll go eat."

"You're an asshole," Joey said, and threw something else, this time at Billy's backside.

"Hey," Billy said, hastily scooting back out from under the bed, shoes in tow. "So, are you up for breakfast, or what?"

"Yes," Joey said flatly, and dropped the lid of his suitcase.

 _It's going to be a long weekend_ , Billy thought, shoving his feet into his sneakers, not bothering to tie them. Joey followed him out of the room without a word. Phil didn't even look up as they left, lost in hamperless hell.

"You know, this whole let's-go-eat-so-I-can-ask-you-what's-wrong thing is getting old," Billy said, all but slamming his tray down on the table. "What's up, huh?"

"I didn't exactly appreciate Phil busting in like that," Joey said, poking his egg yolks until they went runny. "I could've done with the sleep."

"I could've done with more of you," Billy said, lowering his voice. It didn't matter anyway; no one was at any of the tables near them, and the noise was sufficient to cover his voice at that low a register.

Joey looked up at him, frozen, a sort of _I can't believe you said that in public_.

"Sorry," Billy muttered, cutting violently into one of his waffles. "S'true, though."

"Yeah, I know, and same goes for me, thanks for asking," Joey said, his voice startlingly loud. "See? That's what it feels like. Keep it down, got it?"

Billy raised his unoccupied hand, still too contrite to meet Joey's eyes. Shit, how did Joey _do_ that? One look and it was worse than his mom screaming at him.

"Oh, come on, it's all right," Joey said, reaching across with his fork to tap Billy's tray. "Forget I said that. I ought to take it out on Phil, not on you."

"I appreciate that," Billy said, glancing up, letting his half-smile undercut his sarcasm.

Joey grinned back, his mouth full of egg. They were cool.

"Anyway, I was saying," Billy said, lowering his voice again, "I, um…meant it."

Joey shrugged, matter-of-fact as anything. "So did I."

Billy turned this over in his head, frowning at the syrup that had accumulated too heavily in one spot. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to propose, well, a proposition without making it _sound_ like one, but chances were Joey was going to get his drift anyway. He realized he wasn't looking at Joey again, and not looking at Joey for too extended a period usually resulted in another look, one that said, _Out with it_.

"Billy—"

"What I can't figure out is," Billy pressed on, throwing caution to the bad ventilation, "how in the hell we're going to find time for ourselves. You know. I'm just saying."

" _Mm_ ," said Joey, brusquely, frowning. "Problematic."

"Maybe Phil will be overcome by the inexplicable urge to go see Hank and Snuffy later this evening," Billy said, shrugging. "He's suggestible. Could work."

"Ric's back, but I don't think Hank and Snuffy are," Joey pointed out. "One usually car-pools with the other, coming back from D.C. and all that."

"Ah, right," Billy said, taking a bite of waffle. "Well, fuck."

"Phil hasn't gone running since before the holidays," Joey said. "He'll feel rusty. I bet you dollars to doughnuts he goes out to the track for a while."

Billy straightened in his chair, hopeful. "Have I mentioned how glad I am that you know these guys better than I do?"

Joey grinned and gave Billy an ironic salute with his fork.

"All in the line of duty."

Later, when Phil was gone—to the laundry room instead of the track—Billy locked the door and met Joey's uncertain, anticipatory gaze with one of his own.

"We've got maybe forty-five minutes," he said. "I hope Phil remembered his detergent."

"Always does," Joey said, tossing his music magazine down onto the desk. He propped himself up on his elbows, raising his eyebrows. "Are you coming up or what?"

"Up there? No way," Billy said, crossing the room with his hands on his hips. "It'd be hell on my ankles if we had to jump down, and you'd probably break in half."

"Oh, shut up," Joey muttered, irritably, and crawled down the ladder. "This had better be good."

"I hope so," Billy said, and joined him on the lower mattress. Billy sniffed his pillow, frowning. God, Phil was right about 1991 and laundry. Not promising.

"You think I'm gonna check?" Joey asked, his voice tinged with laughter.

"No," Billy said, lifting his head, and leaned in to brush a kiss against Joey's lips.

Somewhere between intent and landing, Joey turned his head, and the kiss went square on his ear. _There it goes_ , Billy thought, pretending he'd meant to do that, nuzzling Joey's earlobe. _And here I thought my mind was playing tricks_.

Joey sighed, skimming his fingers down Billy's arms from shoulders to wrists.

"Nice," Billy murmured, catching Joey's cheek with his right hand. _Let's rewind and see that shot again_. Joey met his eyes, smiling that almost-but-not-quite-shy smile that he seemed to reserve only for Billy, but there was some darkness of doubt underneath. Billy let his fingers drift down to Joey's chin and leaned in a second time.

Joey jerked his head away quickly, flattening Billy to the pillow in the same motion.

"Um," Billy said, finding his arms pinned. "Touché. But did I miss – "

"No, but you're _going_ to miss something if you don't be quiet."

"Fair enough," Billy said, but it wasn't, not really. At least not until Joey flattened himself down the length of Billy's body and latched his mouth somewhere along Billy's collarbone. Quiet. Yeah _right_.

And still, beneath the rise and fall, he thought: _Why won't you let me kiss you?_

* * *

Monday was panning out to be worse than most Mondays, not least because there'd been no opportunity to get Joey alone on Sunday. Saturday evening had been cut mercilessly short by Phil's early, obscenity-announced return from the laundry room. He'd run out of quarters just as Billy had run out of sufficient self-control to keep quiet. He hadn't dared to guess that Joey was more imaginative with his mouth than with his hands.

"How 'bout that trig test?" Snuffy asked, slamming his tray down next to Billy. Something that looked like a glob of red Jell-O landed on the back of Billy's hand.

"Yeah, how about it?" Joey echoed, licking his fingertip before reaching over and smudging away the offending gelatin. "I don't see any notes in your back pocket."

"I was planning on stealing yours," replied Snuffy, smirking. "Doesn't look like you've brought any, either."

"Studied already," Joey said with a shrug.

"How about you?" Snuffy asked, giving Billy a pointed look.

"A bit," Billy lied, passing the glance to Phil. "Why don't you bother somebody who knows the answers?"

"Uh-uh," Phil said, putting his hands in the air. "Not me."

"Brilliant," Snuffy muttered. "Toughest exam of the year and I can't count on any of you fuckers in the Triple of Intellectual Doom to bail us out."

"Do I look like a tutoring service?" Joey asked, addressing no one in particular.

"No, but you're the best we've got," said Hank, finally catching up with them. "Snuff here giving you a problem?"

"Nah," Billy said. "Just the usual."

"The usual what?" Ric asked, only a few strides behind Hank. He took the only remaining seat, not terribly pleased that it was beside Snuffy.

"Pain in the ass bullshit," Hank said. "C'mon, I haven't got a study hall today _or_ tomorrow. Let's eat and review for this thing, huh?"

"Didn't bring my notes," Joey said, sneaking a private glance at Billy. _Oh my God, get me out of here_.

"Me neither," Billy said, tossing his napkin down on his half-finished burrito. "I'm gonna chill in the room until next period." He tilted his head toward Joey, then toward the door.

"Hallelujah," Joey said, following suit. "Later, man," he added, chucking his napkin onto Snuffy's tray as he turned. If Snuffy was fuming, neither of them bothered to check.

Back at the room, Billy locked the door behind them and tried to catch his breath.

"Is Snuffy always that much of a prick? I've rarely seen his good side."

"Almost," said Joey, apologetically. "You get used to it."

"It's not a priority," Billy said, taking hold of Joey's hands. "Hey, you wanted out?"

"Yeah," Joey said, staring down at their entwined fingers. "He gets on my nerves. I don't wanna think about fucking trig any more than I have to before tomorrow."

"Mind if I borrow your notes later tonight?" Billy asked, lowering his eyes in mild shame. "I, uh, haven't really studied. Only over your shoulder."

"Moron," Joey said, but there was laughter in his voice. Billy felt the kiss brush his temple and tugged Joey in reflexively, pressing their foreheads together.

Joey froze, but he was looking Billy straight in the eye, which was a start.

Billy swallowed. "So, um, besides wanting out…"

"You owe me, remember?" Joey said, grinning. He relaxed a little.

"Told you I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut," Billy said, erring on the side of caution. He backed Joey over to the bunk, careful to keep their foreheads flush. "Is this what I get, somebody who'll remember my every incoherent moan?"

He felt Joey—not quite flinch. It was more of a shudder.

"Probably," Joey whispered, licking his lower lip.

"Mm," Billy said, pushing him down on the mattress. "Could be useful."

"Like now?" Joey asked, watching him with shadowed eyes.

"Well, yes," Billy said, untying Joey's Chucks, "and no. See, this time's useful to you—I told you I owed you one. Next time, who knows? Maybe I'll say I really like something totally random, and you'll remember that I like it."

"Ah," Joey said, the lone syllable quavering short of breath.

Fine, then. No kiss attempts if that was going to be what it would take to get Joey to relax, to lie back and let Billy do…well, the _doing_. Joey barely blinked at Billy as he undid Joey's jeans, which was a fucking miracle, because Billy had at least expected to fend off a punch or a smack for going below the waist without warning. _Interesting_.

"Wow, you did get froggy boxers," Billy observed, lamely. He tossed Joey's jeans onto the corner of the desk, obscuring his trig notes. "You think Snuffy wants 'em now?"

"Worse than ever," Joey said, looking mildly disturbed at the prospect. That wasn't what Billy wanted, so he leaned in and brushed his lips against the inside of Joey's knee. That brought Joey's left hand flying to Billy's cheek, and it lingered there, a shaky caress.

Billy glanced up at Joey, not quite removing his mouth from the spot. "Mhmm?"

"Yeah," Joey gasped, his breath high and shallow now. " _Yes_."

"Good," Billy said, and nuzzled the smooth skin, skimming his left hand up the side of Joey's thigh even as his right hand made a careful attempt at Joey's waistband.

Joey didn't do anything except shake with every breath he took, watching wide-eyed as Billy fumbled at the elastic with both hands now, drawing the boxers down to Joey's knees, his shins, his ankles…holy _fuck_ , it was scary. While Joey was breathing too much, Billy felt as if he couldn't breathe at all. Joey was hard. For _him_.

"Look, um," Joey said, his voice rough and unashamedly anxious, "not to be rude or anything, but if you're just gonna _stare_ —"

"No," Billy said, tossing Joey's boxers aside. "That's not it," he said, softly, setting one hand on each of Joey's thighs now, too desperately amazed for words. "It's…"

Joey screwed his eyes shut, drawing his breath deep. "Billy, this is kind of—"

"You're fucking gorgeous," Billy muttered, and bent to take Joey in his mouth before his brain could let him say anything else as utterly humiliating as exactly what he thought.

* * *

"You have until the end of the period to complete this test," said the substitute, tucking her chin-length brown hair behind her ears. "That's fifty-five minutes. You're not permitted to go over." The room erupted in a chorus of groans. "Sorry, those are my instructions," she added, raising her voice, and started to distribute the packets.

Billy glanced across the room, watching Joey resolutely turn his packet face down, tapping his pencil on the desk. God, he wasn't going to be able to concentrate. Joey looked tense and over-prepared, but his hands and pencil were still. He returned Billy's glance with the ghost of a smile, as if to say, _Only when_ I'm _not looking?_

"You may begin," said the substitute, taking her seat at the front of the room.

Billy turned his packet over and blinked at it, mechanically writing his name on the line in the upper right-hand corner. He scanned the contents with a quick flip through, resisting the urge to swear out loud. Three proofs, each one as long as fuck and probably worth fifteen or twenty points apiece. _I'm screwed_ , he thought, and punched his calculator on. You could bullshit equations, too, but only up to a point. Halfway into the first one, Billy hit a snag. He bit the eraser-end of his pencil, his mind blank.

 

_"You didn't answer my question," Billy said, running his fingers through Joey's hair._

_Joey's breathing was almost back to normal, and it was pressed square against Billy's shoulder. Joey was clinging to Billy with a surprising amount of strength for as hard as he'd just come, his fingers restless at Billy's shoulders. "Huh?"_

_"Your trig notes," Billy said, kissing the top of his head. "Later. Please?"_

_He felt Joey smile._

_"If a blow-job's the going price, I'll have to say yes more often."_

 

Billy planted his face square onto his test. Some good the review session had done.

Forty minutes later, as he scribbled the finishing touches—most definitely incorrect—onto the final proof, the bell rang. He looked up just in time to hear the substitute say "Pencils down!" and catch Snuffy's smirk as he handed in his test with a second to spare.

Billy turned his packet over and glanced over at Joey, who had evidently turned in his test before Snuffy. Joey looked up from the novel he'd had stowed under his chair and mouthed, _How'd it go?_

 _Not good_ , Billy replied, and stood up, stretching. If you didn't finish, normal procedure was to just leave it where it was and the teacher would collect. Maybe they knew it felt like shit to personally hand over something half-assed or not finished.

"Nailed the sucker," said Snuffy, confidently, as they all walked down the hall.

"More like failed," Joey muttered under his breath, drifting a little closer to Billy.

"Look who's talking," Snuffy shot back. "Your silence is fucking arrogant."

"God, would you shut your mouth?" Phil asked, putting his hands over his ears. "I left that sucker behind me, man, pass _or_ fail."

"Great attitude," said Hank, and offered Phil a high five. It at least got Phil's hands off his ears, and it made Ric, the quietest of them all, smile even wider.

Joey hung back, so Billy slowed with him till the others had drifted ahead.

"Shouldn't have done that," Joey said, staring at the floor as they walked.

"Done what? Did you cheat?" Billy asked, nudging his elbow. "Make me proud."

"No, idiot," Joey said. "Given you that look. Made us leave lunch. Distracted you."

"Oh, come on," Billy said. "That's not your fault, and you know it."

Joey shrugged, but he smiled a little. "Yeah, I guess so. But my point is, if both our scores come back complete and utter shit, I'll know why."

"Goddamn," Billy said, unable to resist throwing an arm across Joey's shoulders. "I'm _really_ proud." He tried to keep it casual, but the curve of his arm wanted to soften and his fingers wanted to caress. He let it drop just as quickly.

However, Joey's grin told him the risk had been well worth it.

 _Maybe we're getting somewhere_ , Billy thought, and grinned with him.

Over the course of the next few days, it was clear that the next encounter would have to wait till the weekend. As the assignments piled up, the bug up Snuffy's butt went more and more berserk, and, in turn, Joey got more irritable. Finally, on Thursday at lunch when the others, bless them, were nowhere to be found, Billy decided to ask some questions. Joey seemed cheerful enough, but then, with Snuffy gone…

"You want to know what's up with him?" Joey asked, incredulously, nibbling on a dinky chocolate-chip cookie. "Jesus, what _isn't_ up with him is more like it."

"I don't follow," Billy said, frowning.

Joey sighed, breaking his cookie in half. "Allow me to illustrate." He held up one half of the cookie and said, "What Snuffy wants—" and added, very slowly, offering the half to Billy "—Snuffy doesn't get. He's not used to that." Joey held up the other half of the cookie even as he forced Billy's fingers to close around the previous half. "Now, what Billy wants, he _always_ gets," Joey finished, tucking the rest of the cookie into Billy's other hand. "I thought for sure you'd noticed."

"Ah," Billy said, stuffing one half of the cookie into his mouth and handing the other back to Joey. _The jeans and the notebook_. Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to Billy. "Not to pry, but has Snuffy ever…um…"

"Not recently," Joey said, giving Billy the grin that had come to mean _You make my life_ so _much easier_. And something else, too, though Billy couldn't be sure.

"Right," Billy said, uncomfortably rubbing the nape of his neck. "D'you think he's…"

"Acting up because he's onto something? Yes," Joey said, shrugging. "He'll live."

"You usually get so bent out of shape," Billy said, surprised at Joey's calm.

"Don't mistake irritation for bent out of shape," Joey said, his smile fading somewhat. "I hate to say it, but I don't think you've _seen_ me bent out of shape."

 _God forbid_ , Billy thought, pangs of unease crowding in his chest. "What…kinds of things bend you out of shape, if you don't mind my asking? You know, just so I don't fuck up or something. I'd hate that," Billy said, knowing full well he'd begun to ramble.

Joey looked thoughtful for a second, then started ticking items off on one hand.

"Dad, dad, dad, and dad," he said, pinching his right ring finger. "Oh, and personal shit," he added, wagging his pinkie. "Insults, hang-ups, et cetera."

"Hang-ups?" Billy asked, trying to keep it low-key.

"Yeah, you know," Joey said, shrugging again. "Don't push me."

 _Right_ , Billy thought grimly, but he nodded evenly instead.

* * *

Friday night, a week to the day. Billy wanted desperately to crack some joke about anniversaries, and offer Joey a getaway, but Joey was still relatively short on humor, and Regis was _definitely_ short on travel agencies. At the moment, sitting around the room with Phil seemed as exciting as things were going to get.

"Do you ever wonder," Phil asked, fiddling with the punching nun puppet, which seemed to be busted, "who comes up with these lame toys?"

"I told you, I've tried fixing it," Joey said, dropping his magazine—this time one on photography—flat on his face. "Useless shit," he added, his voice muffled.

"Let me have a look," Billy said, swiveling in Joey's chair, tossing aside the Game Boy and holding out his hand. It wasn't likely that Phil would get up and bring it over to him, but it was worth a shot. Anything of Joey's he could fix was a bonus.

"No, I think I'm getting somewhere," Phil said, and somewhere was up the nun's habit.

Joey leaned over the side of the bunk, the magazine dangling from his hand.

"Billy," he said, deadpan, "this is your life."

" _Our_ life," Billy corrected him, wiggling his fingers. "Phil, give me the damn puppet."

"No," Phil said, peering into the hollow head, fascinated.

"Save yourself," Joey said, dangling halfway over the side of his mattress, letting the magazine drop in a colorful flutter. "Save yourself _now_."

"From the nun, or from you guys?"

Joey shrugged, inasmuch as a limp swinging of his arms could pass for one.

Billy reached up and batted at Joey's hands, lingering over each random brush.

 _No fair_ , said Joey's eyes as he raised his head a little.

Billy winked at him. "Hey, isn't there _anything_ on tonight? No Senior Activities to infiltrate?"

"Not that I know of," Joey said, which translated to, "Not that I'm _interested_ in."

"Not true," Phil said, finally straightening the puppet's clothes and setting it aside. "There's that film series—hey, I think it's _Batman_ tonight! Rec room, starts at 7. You guys want to go?"

"I've seen it too many times," Billy said, putting as much genuine regret behind the statement as possible. "I bet I could give you a private quoting. I know every line."

"Please, no," Joey said, withdrawing onto the top bunk like a hermit crab into its shell.

"You douchebags," Phil said, leaping off the bed. "It starts in twenty-four minutes, your loss." He went over to the windowsill and picked up the ruler, banging the signal down. It was returned in four seconds flat—Hank, judging by the force and decisiveness.

Ten minutes later, they were alone. Joey slithered back over the edge of the bunk, blinking at Billy as if he'd never _quite_ seen him clearly before.

"If Parker has any clue, he'll realize what a genius you are and exempt you from finals."

"All in the line of duty," Billy said, and saluted.

"So," Joey ventured, tucking his hands under his chin. "Mine or yours?"

"I think I'd like a different view," Billy said, and got up. The ladder was rickety, and he wondered at the fact that Joey had never complained of splinters. He crawled up the mattress till he was level with Joey, who had turned around and situated himself against the pillow. "How's that?"

"Seems like it'll hold," Joey said, taking hold of the sides and rocking the bunk a little.

"Very funny," Billy said, and crawled up farther, one arm on either side of Joey's shoulders. "So, who owes who?"

"Not sure," Joey said, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly downward.

 _Shit_ , Billy thought, then got his panic under control. "Right," Billy said, sitting up, squirming out of his t-shirt. He dropped it on Joey's head, which got it flung right back at him. Billy deflected it radiator-side and let it fall to the floor. "Your turn."

Joey unbuttoned his shirt—long sleeves at this time of year, as cold as he tended to get, Billy had noticed—wriggled out of it, and dropped it down on the desk. "And?"

"You're lucky this isn't strip poker," Billy said, unbuttoning his jeans. Getting out of them was a bit of a struggle, not least because he was sitting on a mattress. Joey took them away from him once he'd gotten them off and threw them across the room.

"You're lucky, period," Joey said, smirking a little. He undid his fly and just laid there, arms folded behind his head. "You get to finish the job."

"You," Billy said, "are fucking weird," but he wasn't about to balk at the chance to get Joey out of his trousers a second time. Or out of his boxers, either. Just to keep Joey from glaring, Billy dispensed with his own, too, and stretched out alongside Joey.

"There, we're even," he said, reaching over to rest his hand lightly on Joey's belly.

Joey pressed up under the touch, already half hard. "I give us two hours at the outside, hour and forty minutes if we're really lucky. I don't remember how long it is."

"I don't _care_ how long it is," Billy said, and nudged at Joey's hip till he turned onto his side. They were facing each other now, so close that their legs touched. Joey slid his right foot down Billy's calf and pressed their foreheads together, sighing.

 _Say it_ , Billy thought, skimming his fingers down Joey's cheek. _For God's sake, say_ something _, even if you're not ready to say why_.

As if Joey had heard him, he sucked in his breath and made a choked sound.

"Listen," he began, then stopped, taking another breath. "I know you're wondering—"

"No," Billy said, tugging Joey in and tangling their limbs, _that's not the way; you're tying yourself in knots_. "What is there to wonder about?" he murmured, softly, nuzzling Joey's ear. Billy's cock brushed Joey's thigh, making them both jump.

"Actually, there's…" Joey trailed off, pressing his mouth against Billy's cheek. It was the closest he'd come to making some sign indicative of _wanting_ to be kissed, aside from the awkward pulling away and the speechless, word-loaded looks.

"There's this," Billy said, rolling onto his back, coaxing Joey along with him. He settled Joey astride his hips, finding the logistics momentarily tricky. He sat up partway, propping himself on his elbows. Joey was breathing high and fast, almost as uncontrollably as when Billy had sucked him off. _No, not interesting,_ Billy thought, slipping his arms around Joey's ribcage and pulling him in tight. _This is just heartbreaking_.

"Billy," Joey was saying, reluctantly, tensing as if he meant to pull away, "I'm not—"

"I am, Joey," Billy said, fiercely, refusing to let go of him. " _I_ am, okay? Will you let that be enough? Will you fucking _trust_ me already?"

Joey went completely still—not relaxed, but not trying to pull away, either. In spite of how turned on he was, they both were, Billy could see that his eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, which meant that he was about to say something that mattered.

"Are you sure," Joey asked, quietly, "that's what you want?"

Billy felt something inside him snap. What, _what_ was Joey asking him to want, or not want? Joey's body? Fucking foregone conclusion, which Billy let him know with a quick, pleading kiss against his neck. Joey's soul? Even if God or the Devil or Ra or whoever had it, Billy figured that he could still _try_. He took a gasping breath—maybe his last—and turned fast enough for his kiss to catch Joey square on the lips.

Alarm and disbelief: with his eyes closed, Billy felt these things radiate off of Joey in stunning, helpless waves. He tightened his hold, refusing to let go, and parted his lips tentatively against Joey's. Expecting firm resistance, the shock was suddenly Billy's as he met with none at all. One brush of Joey's tongue, one strangled moan that could have been either of them, one irreversible thrust that rocked them together, then flat…

It took Billy several long seconds to register that he was staring at the ceiling, his ringing head cushioned by the pillow, and that Joey's mouth was now a bit off-center from his, shaping the words _ohshitohshitohshit_ in time with the rattling aftershocks.

 _What_ , he thought, hazily, _the hell just happened?_

Abruptly, Joey slackened and lay still, his lips still shaping words—the unspoken ones, for all Billy knew—against the corner of Billy's mouth. Billy caught his breath, swallowed a few times, and gave Joey another kiss. _Anything_ to get a fucking handle on the situation, which was, in spite of being fucking incredible, way out of bounds. He rubbed Joey's back until Joey responded, his mouth moving against Billy's.

"—told you it would happen," he croaked, when they finally paused for breath, "just like that, no going back—"

" _Joey_." Billy blinked and gave him a good shake. "What do you mean?"

Joey paled a little, which was impressive given the color in his cheeks, and promptly buried his face in Billy's neck. "Oh, God," he mumbled. "I'm a freak."

"No, you're not," Billy said, massaging his shoulders. "Just tell me."

"You were already there," said Joey, into the pillow. "Fucking _falling_ for you, I knew I was, knew I would if I let you, but you'd already fallen for me, what a _moron_ you must think—"

"Where do you get all these ideas about what I think of you?" Billy asked, tapping Joey's shoulders with both hands. "Huh?"

Joey lifted his head, revealing eyes full of tears and a grin of relief.

"Must be the trig proofs," he said, and kissed Billy for a long time indeed.


End file.
